


Side Effects: After the End

by pagerunner



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-31
Updated: 2012-04-11
Packaged: 2017-11-02 19:46:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pagerunner/pseuds/pagerunner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the Synthesis ending to Mass Effect 3, Shepard's squad has to deal with what's happened and what's yet to come.  Multi-part fic, now complete. Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/369622">Side Effects</a>, also posted here. [Note: written before the release of the Extended Cut.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Like the original Side Effects, this fic is Shepard-agnostic, but I had to make a few major plot decisions this time. Most importantly, this follows on from the Synthesis ending, Kaidan's the VS, and every other squad member who could have survived did. You'll figure out the rest as we go. :)

_Normandy crash zone, planet unknown: 07:40 local solar time_

He doesn't get the headaches anymore.

Ever since the Crucible fired, since the relays exploded and the energy blast changed everything, and ever since…they came here… it's been oddly quiet in Kaidan's head. The implant that so troubled him most of his life seems to have integrated itself into his own, not-entirely-organic-anymore circuitry, and even the scar has faded almost to nothing.

He has other scars now, some less visible than others. He's trying not to think about those.

It's sunny here most days, after all -- clear skies, no signs of battle or destruction, just calm. The temporary housing they've rigged up is holding together; rations are well apportioned, and the more adventuresome crew members are industriously finding additional food and supplies, not to mention surveying the landscape around them. There are intriguing signs of what else might be out there beyond the hills, and a rising sense of hope. So Kaidan keeps his concerns to himself. Morale's important at a time like this, after all, when all they have to rely on is each other. 

He just hopes no one's noticed how he isn't looking anyone quite in the eyes anymore.

The sole exception to that rule is EDI. She's as predominantly electronic as ever, and so the gleam in her eyes doesn't bother him. After another checkup with Dr. Chakwas -- who's keeping such close, and bewildered, tabs on everyone that she has to be forced to sleep most days -- EDI walks up to greet him. He's standing by the open front of their three-walled clinic space, which was made, as all their buildings are, of salvaged ship components. He's pretty sure the post he's leaning against had had a past life in the CIC. Around them, there's lush greenery as far as the eye can see.

"Good morning, Major Alenko," EDI says. 

Something about the title makes him laugh. _Major of what, out here?_ He rubs his head. "Hey, EDI."

"You wished to hear the results of the northwest survey once our squad returned."

"Right. Report."

"They are still on their way back, but radioed back with news. We have no definitive data yet on signs of other settlements, but Engineer Adams has found a large quantity of minerals we can utilize for…."

"That's great." It isn't, which is why he cuts her off. EDI had compiled a shortlist of the planets they might have landed on, and if she's right, there might be other colonies nearby. Kaidan doesn't want to believe they're alone out here. Neither, he suspects, does EDI. The Normandy's crash resulted from a whole chain of circumstances, several of them out of their control, but it was EDI who coordinated the airlift off Earth to rescue what crew members she could, and to draw attention away from Shepard's approach to the conduit. Their departure resulted, indirectly or not, in landing here. Her single-minded determination to help everyone now almost resembles guilt. 

Interpreting the emotions of a nascent AI is still more than he can deal with this early in the morning, though, so he tries to keep it simple. "Anything else?"

"How was your check-in with Dr. Chakwas?"

Kaidan sighs and folds his arms. "About as bizarre as you'd expect."

"I have only partial reports from last time. Has anything changed?"

 _Apart from everything?_ "My body is still mysteriously showing signs of non-organic compounds, especially in the ribs that broke and somehow healed themselves after Harbinger attacked. My biotics are stronger than ever, my migraines probably won't be coming back, my eyes have a goddamned zoom function all of a sudden, and oh, yeah, I've found three new gray hairs since yesterday morning." He looks out across the sky. It feels strange to be so ill at ease here, when the sky is shaded a gentle peach from sunrise and all around them are chirping birds. It's beautiful. And incomprehensible. "I feel… fine. And that's what bothers me."

EDI seems as if she's reaching for something to say. "I think you'll find the optical zoom has its advantages." 

Kaidan gives her a pained look. EDI subsides. "My apologies. I imagine everyone is having some trouble….adjusting."

He isn't sure what to react to first: the inadequacy of the word "adjusting," or the idea of EDI _imagining_ anything. He shakes his head and starts over.

"Tell me what you've found out about what caused this," he says.

"I'm still analyzing the data. But I should warn you that since the Normandy's crash, my processing power has been reduced. Our backup generator has a limited runtime and once it powers down, the remaining functioning units will cease to be available to me. I have… had to prioritize." She looks, Kaidan thinks, oddly torn. "The immediate survival concerns of our crew are…."

"Paramount, I know," Kaidan says. "But it's still important."

EDI studies him a moment, then turns to look out at the horizon, with the same strange sort of eyes he's now acquired. 

"At the moment the Crucible fired, my sensors picked up an immense blast of data. It is far too vast in scope to decode entirely, even if I had my full complement of servers online. What I can determine is that it was not merely information, but… instructions. Programming. I believe it was designed to make these alterations we've observed to everything it… communicated with. It was evidently sent out over the complete network of mass relays, which worked to amplify the signal across a galactic level." She turns her hands in each other, in an oddly human gesture. "Think of it as… like the cure we released on Tuchanka via the Shroud."

"You're calling this a cure?"

"If it eliminated the Reaper threat, some might categorize it as such." EDI pauses. "But the particular effect you're speaking of…."

"Blending synthetic and organic life," Kaidan says. "Dr. Chakwas says it's happened to everyone she's evaluated. Even herself. Even the damn _birds_ , for all we know."

EDI listens to the trilling melodies around them. "In all probability, yes."

"But _how?"_

"That," she answers, "is what I'm still processing."

An oddly amused flicker of thought goes through the back of Kaidan's head. He rubs his neck, trying not to think about what, exactly, it sounds like. "Real helpful," he mutters. Then he sighs. "Sorry. It's just… a lot to take in. I never thought the Crucible was capable of _this._ How could anything go and change all life like that, in the blink of an eye?"

She shrugs. "In some ways, it is not unprecedented. Even in recent recorded history, we have evidence of species engineering each other toward massive leaps of evolution. Humanity leapfrogged itself into vast advancements through discovered technology, from the same source that gave us the Crucible. Even I was led toward greater humanity through the encouragement of others. Influences of all sorts can produce drastic and unexpected changes in any life form; sometimes they are under our own control, sometimes not. And I…."

She pauses. Kaidan looks at her. "What?"

"I believe," she says carefully, "that even if the full extent of the Crucible's capabilities were not known to us during construction, perhaps not even until the moment of its use, its particular application was… still a matter of choice."

There's an odd prickle at his spine, and the sense somehow of everything holding its breath. "EDI," he says quietly. "What exactly do you know?"

She counters with another question. "What exactly do you suspect?"

Kaidan stares at her, and that subtle echo of thought sounds at the back of his head again. It's the only disruption he's had to the quiet, really. He's heard it more than once. There's something so familiar about it….

"I think Shepard did more than just plain pull the trigger," Kaidan says.

EDI goes so still he wonders for a second if she's shut down. It takes her time to reply.

"It is impossible to entirely filter through the data. But any such melding of synthetic and organic life would have required… organic input. Samples. Extrapolations. Raw code on its own would not have been enough. This _feels_ organic in part, and it's… familiar."

He shivers to hear EDI acknowledge it, too. "And you think it's…."

"Human, undoubtedly."

"You mean Shepard."

"I have been trying to isolate the genetic code. Compare it against our existing records, medical and psychological. Determine the likelihood of…."

She cuts off, leaving Kaidan to his imagination, and that doesn't help. "You mean Shepard," he repeats. This time she doesn't qualify it. Kaidan shuts his eyes. _How--_

He's sure the image in his head has nothing to do with reality, because he wasn't there; he couldn't possibly know. But all he can think of is Shepard plunging into an explosion of brilliant light, vanishing, becoming… and his heart aches both with the loss and the terrible hope that there might be something to this after all, that _something_ still lingers.

"Maybe the catalyst wasn't ever the machine," he says softly. "Maybe the catalyst was the person who wielded it. The only one who truly could."

He feels something like acknowledgment: the sense of a nod, or a hand on the shoulder. He turns his head as if he'll find someone there, but all he sees is the trees.

All around them, in fact, is the buzzing of life, on this beautiful planet they've come to by accident -- or maybe something more. He'll never know. In lieu of an answer, he plucks a fallen leaf from the ground and holds it up to the sun. It looks ordinary -- just a bit of greenery. Then he _focuses._ His new eyes show him the traces of its veins in brilliant detail: part nature, part circuitry, all its connections leading into infinite complexity. Code and creation. He shuts his eyes for a second and shakes his head. When he looks at the leaf again, it's just a leaf.

Kaidan sits down on a nearby crate and turns the leaf over and over in his hands. EDI watches him while he fights to get his thoughts in order.

"It's strange," he says. "Some of these changes…. some of this I understand. I wasn't exactly standard-issue human to begin with. Eezo exposure, unexpected biotic potential, implant augmentation, everything… there was always something a little extra. But I _started out_ different. It was just how things were. Changing again this suddenly -- I don't know what to think."

"You've always used technology to your advantage," EDI points out. "You've mixed that with your biotics all along."

"Yeah, I know. It makes it easier to _use_. And don't get me wrong, part of me is itching to dig in to find out how every damn bit of it works. Part of me… wants this. I just feel like it shouldn't be easy to accept." He rubs one hand over his face. "Am I making any sense?"

"I've changed a lot myself," EDI says, with surprising candidness. "I think I know what you mean."

He snorts out something almost like a laugh. Then he says softly, "The one part of it I _can_ accept is if Shepard meant for this to happen, to help us. To… I don't know, play mediator. Give us all a step up together. I just didn't want for it to…."

He can't quite say it. EDI steps in. "For it to come at the Commander's expense?"

His voice cracks. "Yeah."

She sits down next to him. Peripherally, he can sense the hum of every little component of that robotic body… the same one that had tried to kill him, once. At least EDI taking it over is a change he can deal with. And beyond that -- if he thinks about it, he can pick out the sense of other people, like little points of vitality all around him. It should be a little creepy, that kind of awareness. He's trying, though, to think of it as reassuring. To stick to the idea that he's got proof he's not alone.

Shepard, he's sure, would want him to.

"I just want to believe the rest of our friends made it through okay, back on Earth," Kaidan says at last. "I miss them, EDI. I wish they could see this."

"So do I," she says softly.

Kaidan closes his eyes and breathes in deep, smelling humid air and verdant greenery, and he listens to the sound of the world. It isn't hard to imagine a familiar voice running through it all, supporting everything, helping it change. Maybe there's no harm in believing that after all.

 _Thanks, Shepard,_ he thinks in return. And he sits there with EDI for a while, waiting for the return of the survey team and hopefully some good news at last.


	2. Chapter 2

_London, Earth, in the recovery zone: 14:36:12_

Tali is busy working on repairs to a damaged communications tower when she hears about the trouble.

It seems like there's nothing _but_ trouble these days, of course, even with the war supposedly won, but this is new: a specific disturbance attached to a familiar name. The agitated chatter over her omnitool connection is impossible to ignore. Tali groans, feeling weary already, but she calls down to the other engineers. "Hey. I need to take this."

One of the humans -- an intimidatingly large man with a scarred chin -- shudders. "Better you than me."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," she mutters, and descends with care to ground level. She has to studiously ignore the hunger and the dizziness that have been plaguing her these last few days. _Have to make the rations last,_ she thinks again. _Last until we…._

She glances up at the sky.

"Get help," she whispers. In the absence of any descending ships, any sign of _anything_ except the last few sparks of the burning debris fields, the words ring hollow.

Tali turns aside and goes off to find her troubled friend.

It's been nearly two weeks since the Crucible fired -- a time of mixed jubilation and confusion, hope and horror. Sometimes Tali has a hard time remembering they defeated the Reapers, or that the Reapers surrendered, or at least that they disappeared -- no one's sure of much, except that the gigantic monster ships aren't parked all over the planet and trying to kill everyone, which seems an improvement. Still, in the wake of their departure came all the _questions_ , and they're what's consuming everyone still. What happened to everyone in that enormous green blast? What happened to what was left of the Citadel? What happened to Shepard?

And, above all, what happened to the relays, and _what_ are they supposed to do about it?

Whole armies had come to Earth, whole _societies_ nearly: all the best and brightest forces from across the entire galaxy. None of them, however, had made long-term plans to _stay_. Tali's seeing the results of their dislocation as she picks her way across town. It's crowded here, and a terrible mess, and guards and soldiers from all races are stationed everywhere to maintain order -- because some of the troops, stranded with no purpose left here and no apparent chance of getting home, have… not taken it well. Keeping the peace is nearly as much of a challenge without the Reapers as it was with them. It's nothing like what Tali had hoped.

So she goes through identity scans at several security checkpoints, hearing a whole lot of respectful, hushed murmurings of her name. Every iteration of _vas Normandy_ hurts. _The Normandy's gone,_ she wants to holler. _Disappeared. My home, my name, so many of my friends, all the best of me. Just_ stop.

But they don't. She just has to grit her teeth and continue through London's bizarrely angled streets to the third checkpoint. She takes a moment there to collect herself and look over the building first.

This must have been a beautiful place once. It's clearly old, retrofitted a few times and now in need of drastic repairs, but it still seems… dignified, somehow. As a makeshift embassy of sorts, she supposes it suits. It just wasn't designed for _this._ Tali doesn't know much about human architecture, but she suspects the clutter of military vehicles, salarian-engineered security devices and that well-armed asari commando at the door are about as incongruous a match for it as you can get -- at least apart from the krogan holed up inside, anyway. 

The guard notices her coming and snaps to attention. "Miss vas N--"

"Just Tali, please," she says tiredly. "Is he still in there?"

The young asari grimaces. "Yes. Better go talk to him while there's still an 'in there' for him to be. He's in the sort of mood to smash down the walls."

"So I've heard." Tali waves her omnitool up by the security scanner, listens to it beep an affirmation, and goes inside when the asari gestures her through.

Once inside, she has no trouble finding out which way to go. She just has to follow the sound of the crashes. 

"Wrex!" she bellows, dredging up all her energy to do it, because she _has_ to yell to be heard over the sound of splintering furniture. He stops where he's standing, but he doesn't turn around. His breaths are heaving and he has both hands clenched into fists. Most people of most species would look at a krogan in his state and back away in a hurry. Tali doesn't really have the luxury -- and he _might_ be willing to listen to her, she thinks. Maybe. Possibly.

"These damn asari," he says, without so much as an acknowledgment of her. The words sound glitchy in her ears; as angry as he is, the words are growled and running together, and her translator's catching maybe one curse word in five. "They keep telling me they can't get us out of the Sol system--"

Tali winces. Since the day the relay blew, the asari have taken control of the efforts to figure out alternative travel. They're busy coordinating data on what everyone's ships are capable of, whether the FTL drives can be sufficiently boosted, anything, and they've employed engineers from every team -- the quarians chief amongst them -- to come up with some sort of solution. Tali has even been asked to help, although she's well entrenched here, and that's partly by design. She secretly doubts they're ever going to fix this problem. If she's lost Rannoch -- again -- she at least wants to die with _some_ planet's soil under her feet, not the metal floors of yet another cold and sterile ship far from home, lost on an impossible journey.

It's not a good time to get fatalistic, she's aware, but there's something about all this that's hard to shake. Wrex is obviously feeling it too.

"I have to get back to Tuchanka," he growls. "My _people_ have to get back to Tuchanka. With the cure -- with everything -- I have to see my _children!_ "

The last comes out in a roar and an involuntary biotic blast that Tali ducks away from. It knocks an old portrait off the wall, sending its subject -- some kind of long-ago political figure, if she had to guess -- clattering facedown to the floor. Wrex doesn't look particularly guilty about it. The enraged energy finally ebbs somewhat, though, and he turns to look at her.

"Don't tell me to be reasonable," he warns. "I've heard enough of that today. _Reason_ isn't getting us anywhere."

"And what is?" Tali means to come back angry, but she just sounds tired. "What good is _unreasonable_ doing?"

Wrex looks at the mess, grunts, and kicks a broken chair aside. "Couldn't fit into the stupid thing anyway," he mutters.

Tali sighs and waits him out.

"Doing all this, fighting here… when there was hope, there was something. Now I've got rebellions brewing because the Reapers left us with nothing to shoot at and everyone with a quad's been wanting to get home and _use_ it--"

Tali wrinkles her nose at the imagery, but of course he can't see her do it.

"And now we've all got these… _modifications_ , and no one knows what it's going to mean." He looks at his arms, as if he can see straight through them to whatever synthetic changes are lurking beneath. "I've got people insisting it'll mess up the cure. That it's just another genophage with a new name."

"I really don't think--"

"We've got no way to know," he grumbles. "No way to get home and _try._ I'm sitting on an army full of frustrated energy and we've got no good use for it, in battle or anything else." He glowers. "This will end in blood soon enough."

"You _have_ to talk to them," Tali says. "You're the only one your troops will listen to. They respect you; they'll follow your counsel--"

"They'll follow a leader who can get them somewhere. I promised them glory, Tali. I promised them a battle to end all battles and that those who returned home would do it as heroes, with the best females of Tuchanka lining up to welcome them. That they could sire the proudest, strongest krogan our race has ever known. That we could make a new and better and lasting society. _That_ , they would fight for. But this?" He shakes his head. "We're good at making messes. We're not much good at cleaning them up, and this is a hell of a way to expect us to learn."

"What else is there? These people here on Earth need help."

"They can rebuild their own planet better than we can." Wrex grimaces at the mess he's made of this so-called office. "What we're good for, what we're _meant_ for… we've already done. But now we can't even leave."

Tali reaches out for a nearby chair, fortunately _not_ destroyed yet, because she's feeling woozy. _What we're meant for…._ She thinks of her people scrambling to fix their ships, coordinating with the salarians who are _trying_ to synthesize what they can as food supplies, negotiating with the turians for whatever resources they can share…. and the geth, their improbable allies, helping it all along. She wonders if it's enough. If it will ever be enough.

"Tali," Wrex says gruffly. "What is it?"

"I've done _everything_ I can," she says wearily. "I've tried so hard. And I should be up there, but I--"

"What?"

All the dread crashes in at once. "We're going to _die_ , Wrex."

He frowns. "Tali…."

"My people. The turians. All of us. We're going to die slowly and in privation and in pain, and all I can do is fix what I can for others and try not to think, because it's… it's just…"

She's hearing little warning pings in one ear: health alarms from the monitoring systems built into her suit. As ever, it's measuring her blood pressure, heart rate, air intake, any ruptures to the suit that might cause adverse reactions, everything, and the improvements the geth had uploaded into the system have made it even more precise than before. It should be a boon, but right now, under these conditions, it just makes for a more effective death knell. She grasps the chair harder and tries to support herself.

"We don't have the resources. We didn't bring enough, and this planet can't provide them. So please don't ask me to care about whether your troops will get to go home and _mate_ , Wrex." He gives her a strange look, but she plunges on. "At least you can _live_. At least you can eat the food and breathe the air. You can still be something. So you _have_ to do what you can. Somebody has to…."

"Tali," Wrex begins again, but she shakes him off. Her head's buzzing. 

"We're going to lose more people to this than to the Reapers," she says, around a threatened sob she doesn't want to let loose. Crying inside the suit is awful. Not, she supposes, that it matters much at this point. "We're going to lose _everyone._ "

She thinks Wrex is trying to say something, but right now, she can't hear it properly. The warning signals have blared up to full volume. Unnaturally, though, it's not just status alerts. She's starting to hear _voices._

_Compensating for stress levels,_ something buzzes in her ear. It sounds, she thinks in horror, like the geth. _Adjusting to regulate vital signs._

"Stop it," she cries out, on a fuller breath than she would have had just moments before. Something is _not_ right. Wrex steps forward and grasps her by the shoulders.

"Tali, what's happening?"

Her voice is trembling. "I don't know. The suit -- I think the assistance programs the geth uploaded after Rannoch are --"

 _Recommend rapid completion of conversion program. Initiating final stage of immunobooster and protein synthesis applications. Opening for upload._

Tali's eyes widen, and she gasps out loud. "Wait. _What?"_

Wrex growls her name again, but she can't even reply, because now something is _happening_ , something she realizes feels familiar. She'd written it off as just feeling unsettled or ill for the last several days, but no, there's something _changing._ Something's been changing ever since the Crucible fired. This strange synthetic transformation everyone endured -- the newfound circuitry under her skin -- it's making it possible for the programs the geth contributed to _communicate_ with her, and all at once her head's lit up like a supernova. She thinks it's trying to help. It doesn't stop her from panicking. "Keelah," she cries out, and pulls back hard enough to wrench out of Wrex's grip. 

For just an instant, under that flood of data, she can see _everything_ \-- not just the program at work, but a whole network stretched out around her of every quarian who's been touched by the change, everyone who needs assistance. She can tell where they all are, every last person. She can almost _hear_ them, and she knows they're hearing this, too….

 _Consensus reached,_ she hears. At that, she _screams_.

And rips off her helmet.

 _"Tali!"_ Wrex roars, but it's too late to stop her. The air rushes in to meet her, and she hauls in a breath of unfiltered Earth air for the first -- and possibly last -- time. She instantly coughs. So much dust, so many _smells…._ She goes to her knees, and Wrex immediately tries to help her up. He sounds more upset than she's ever heard him. "What have you _done?"_

 _Too much,_ she thinks frantically. _Too much, too much… I had to… oh, keelah, I'm sorry…._

She gives another great, shuddering cough, then looks out through watery eyes at Wrex. He does, indeed, look different. Unfiltered by the suit, everything around her is more vivid. Tali blinks at him, then up through a hole in the ceiling at the sky beyond. She's stunned at the color. She's never seen anything that blue.

She takes, rather to her surprise, another, painful breath.

"If I have to die," she whispers, "I want to die as _me."_

 _But you are, Tali'Zorah,_ whispers a voice from nowhere she can determine -- more from inside her than out. It stiffens her with shock. This voice doesn't sound at all like the geth she'd been hearing a moment ago. It sounds… like…. _You're still individual. Still you. Just… a little bit more._ It strengthens. _And you're not going to die._

"But I--" she says, bewildered. No one answers. The voice is gone. It's just her and Wrex, who's still trying to hold her up. He looks as if he doesn't know whether he dares touch her, or what exactly he has to do. "Wrex?"

Something in her expression snaps him to a decision. Maybe it's just being able to _see_ her expression at all. "Hang on." He picks her up like she weighs nothing. "I'm getting you help."

She's still too dazed to tell him that against all expectations, she might not need it.

 _Nothing hurts,_ she thinks, as Wrex skips the convoluted hallways and gets them out to the high street by the simple expedient of a blast through the walls. _I should be going into anaphylactic shock. My skin should be breaking out. Everything should be going wrong, but -- it's_ not….

"You were right," Wrex is telling her, the words tumbling out with terrible urgency, like he wants her to hear the apology before it's too late. "I have to lead my people away from destruction. Maybe we can still plot out an evacuation mission for some of us, show those asari how it's done… and I can get the others to rebuild here -- just--"

"Wrex," she starts, but trails off. He's running toward the emergency medical center, scattering bystanders in his wake, and they're passing a brace of trees that are somehow still standing. The trees are flowering. She expects to sneeze -- and does -- but the scent is a _marvel._ It's sweet and intense and _living._

 _Maybe I'm dreaming,_ she thinks. _Maybe I'm dying and there's just some sim program in the suit I didn't know about to make me feel better?_ But it _feels_ real, all of it. She's having a hard time making herself believe it, but it's there.

And up there somewhere is some part of the answer.

 _Shepard,_ she thinks at last, as they keep pounding over pavement. The jolting hurts a little, but it's not unbearable. _Whatever Shepard did at the Crucible that changed us all. The alliance with the geth that led to getting these assistance programs. The network I felt there at the end, connecting all of us. All of it together. Synthesis. It's actually working._

"I'm sorry," Tali whispers, awed. "I'm sorry I panicked -- I didn't understand --"

Wrex shakes his head and turns a corner. She can see the medicenter up ahead. "Don't apologize. Just hang on. You'll be all right."

Tali looks up at the sky again. The view is free of Reapers and warships, and clearer than anything she's seen in days -- and maybe, just maybe, it's not the last thing she's ever going to see.

"I think," she says, "maybe I am."


	3. Chapter 3

_London, Earth, in the recovery zone: 17:52:01_

When Garrus gets the call from Liara, he heads off to the medicenter as fast as he can.

It does take a little doing. He's been meeting with the rest of the turian forces, plotting out strategies for security and guard deployment, and no one's particularly pleased when he has to halt progress to go tearing across London for a hospital visit. But this one's important. This one's _Tali._

Every now and then, even in the midst of a crisis, so-called responsibility can go hang itself.

Garrus gets there to find a storm of scientists and doctors milling about, excitedly discussing something; he catches just enough of the conversation to feel bewildered. So he waits a moment to try to orient himself, until a salarian woman in a crisp white medical gown focuses with unnerving intensity on him. Her eyes are gleaming beneath the hood. 

"Garrus Vakarian? I was told you were coming." She thrusts out a hand. Garrus tries to catch up -- with salarians, it's often a challenge -- and shakes it. "Sirekka Alvan -- Tali'Zorah's attending physician. Dr. T'Soni has been sharing her past medical records to assist in diagnosis. She's with her now -- she's expecting your visit."

"Ah. Yes. I've just barely heard that she got here… but what _happened?"_

Dr. Alvan frowns. "Unclear. Her suit ruptured -- possibly self-inflicted. Stress, apparently. The krogan who brought her in was most apologetic. I suspect there was an argument." She shrugs. "That's less important than the outcome. Come -- her room is this way."

Garrus isn't sure what to expect as they make their way through the crowded building. It's an improvised hospital at best; the human facility closest by didn't survive the Reaper attacks, and in fact the majority of its patients had been… forcibly converted. The mere idea makes him shudder. Understandably, no one had wanted to get anywhere near the building after that, so this facility had been cobbled together in what seems to be an old financial institution. It's secure and sturdy, at least, though hardly sterile. All the old warnings ping off in Garrus' head. _Tali_ needs _a sterile space. She'll get sick without it. And I can't just walk in there and make it worse--_

But Dr. Alvan merely opens a door and gestures him inside. "She's resting. I'll give you a few minutes."

In salarian time, that might well mean forty-five seconds. Garrus decides he better take the hint.

When he gets inside, he doesn't recognize the girl in the bed.

The woman beside it is, of course, a different story. Liara is standing there with her omnitool at full glow, reading through medical scans and frowning thoughtfully. He can't entirely be sure if the flicker of light in her eyes is a reflection or not, but for now he decides to let it pass. There's a bigger issue at hand, and it's the veritable stranger hooked up to the medical equipment, her eyes closed, her breathing slow but regular. She's….

He can't even come up with a word, but no matter what, he can't look away.

Her face looks much like a human's or asari's, but with delicate patterned ridges that speak of another origin entirely. She's dressed in a lightweight hospital gown, but he can still see how her arms taper down into slightly darker, similarly patterned skin and then hands very much like his own. She has _hair,_ which is somehow a tremendous surprise. From the looks of it, she'd likely kept it shaved when she could but hadn't the time or opportunity as of late, and so it's grown longer, just past her ears, and surrounding her unfamiliar face in a dark, tangled cloud. He almost reaches out to touch it. Instead, with a strange crack in his voice, he tries out the name: "Tali?"

Liara looks at him. This time there's no mistaking the odd light in her eyes.

"Garrus," she says quietly. "You came."

"Of course." He hesitates. There's all sorts of layers of emotion to this he isn't prepared to untangle, but he tries to find a place to start anyway. "Is she…."

"Sleeping, don't worry. It's medically induced. She's had quite the shock to the system, even if things are remarkably stable. Dr. Alvan recommended caution; I tended to agree." Liara makes a self-deprecating smile. "I admit I'm no medical doctor, but, well… I do know Tali."

And there it is: confirmation. That's really her there in the bed. Garrus rubs his forehead, feeling dazed. A glance around the repurposed office finally reveals the rest of the proof, tucked away beside the monitors: Tali's suit, carefully folded up, bagged and labeled, not as personal effects but as diagnostic evidence.

Garrus can only imagine how naked Tali's going to feel without it when she wakes up. 

"That's her whole life over there," he says distantly. "Seeing her without it is…"

"I know," Liara replies, when she realizes he doesn't have words for it. "It's almost impossible to take in. But then….what about all this _isn't_?"

Garrus shakes his head, returning to Tali and the assortment of tubes and wires all around her. She looks smaller without the suit somehow, which he knows makes no sense, and yet. "What all are you giving her?" he asks. Liara pulls up Dr. Alvan's notes.

"Nothing terribly exotic. In fact… that's a good deal of why I called you. I thought you'd want to know…."

Garrus peers at her. Liara gestures at the intravenous line and says, "This is the most important thing, Garrus. This is _everything_. We're testing a standard solution here to see if she can tolerate it -- glucose and amino acids in carefully controlled amounts. And it seems to be working." 

Garrus takes a minute to process that. _Standard… it's working…._ "You mean you have dextro supplies….?"

"No, Garrus. That's my point. It's not dextro-amino; it's levo. Straight out of the human supply. And she's metabolizing it. From all indications, thanks to the change, she can synthesize either type."

"But that's -- that's impossible. It's one or the other. How can….."

"It's a conversion process, from what we can determine. Her basic biology is still the same, so she still _needs_ dextro proteins; her system's just been enhanced to compensate for it. Dr. Alvan and I have been monitoring how she's handling the altered proteins, and using that to build on the salarian team's existing studies. They'd already begun research into all the synthetic changes in quarians and turians before Tali arrived -- you may have heard about it…."

Garrus had, in fact. Two soldiers he knew had volunteered for the study. But he's honestly been trying not to think about it; it feels too large, too far out of his control. "I'm no scientist," he says faintly. "I left that part to the people who know what they're doing."

"Well. The results are going to be important for you regardless. The quarians may be ahead of the turians here, since they've had greater… assistance from the synthetics already. But then, they had more complications to address in the first place. Tali in particular seems to be… well, patient zero for…." She resists the word, but eventually says it. "A complete system upgrade."

Garrus can't even begin to contemplate applying that phrase to a living person. He tries to shake it off, and to stop making uncomfortable comparisons to the machines. _That's Tali,_ he reminds himself. _She's going to be able to eat the food here…. endure… she's going to be fine….._

"I thought you'd want to know what the ramifications for the turians were, too," Liara says.

Garrus doesn't say anything for a minute. Liara finally forces the issue by tossing something to him. Despite his surprise, he catches it. It's small and mostly round, somewhat irregular in shape, colored a mottled red. It's firm, but when he presses a talon against it, its skin gives. Something sticky wells up from the puncture. "What--"

"It's an apple. Common fruit on Earth." Liara's expression turns wry. "And it has certain mythological significance that seems ironic under the circumstances, but that's not the issue here…."

He's still nonplussed. "What _is?"_

"Dr. Alvan's team has already detected signs of -- upgrades -- in her turian volunteers, too. I've been doing preliminary comparisons between Tali's scans and the existing test results to see if any of the changes have run in parallel. I think in this region of the digestive system there are definite correlations--"

"Liara," he says, wresting her attention away from the omnitool display. "Please, just tell me straight."

She sighs and does. "You might be able to eat the food here, too."

Garrus goes silent. Then he finds a folding chair and sits down, the apple still in his hand and dangling loosely between his knees.

It takes a long while to get his thoughts in order.

"I don't even feel any different," he says at last, in some sort of vague protest. " _Some_ people seem to, but -- I don't know, maybe it hasn't really hit me yet. Doesn't seem real that something that significant could have been completely…." He snorts and goes for the joke. "Recalibrated."

"It's still possible," Liara says. Garrus shakes his head.

"Hell of a superpower to pick up. Food metabolism. Lucky us." It is, in fact -- under the circumstances it's a fucking miracle -- but it's one bit of luck he doesn't feel ready to count on just yet. In the meantime, he skirts the issue. "Every biotic I know is talking about enhanced senses and maybe even psychic connections with each other, who knows what… but maybe it's different for those of us who didn't have the bonus features to begin with. The only thing I even noticed was, well… _everyone's_ eyes look different. I'm sure mine do too."

It's more than that, of course, and she clearly knows it. "You don't actually need that eyepiece anymore, do you?"

He doesn't. He doesn't like it. "I can't bear to take it off," he admits. Liara smiles sympathetically, and he changes the subject before he has to follow up on that. "So…what about you? Did anything change?"

"It's much like you said. Improved range of my biotics, primarily. I…. still need to experiment to determine the full effects." Something odd glints in her eyes again. Considering the power Liara could wield even _before_ all this, Garrus makes the mental note to get off this damn island before she tries anything too interesting. "But… yes, everyone did take to the change somewhat differently. Some people are adjusting with remarkable speed. Others… well, with others it's more complicated."

There's something odd in her voice when she says it. "What is it?"

Liara pokes at her omnitool, somewhat halfheartedly. Then she lowers her arm and walks partway around Tali's bed so that she can lean on the end of it while she thinks. "I was with Javik when the Crucible fired," she says quietly. 

"Ah," Garrus says. "I… doubt he'd be the sort to take this well."

"No. He fought the change with every fiber of his being. I could feel it coming just as he did, and I was _terrified_ , but I could sense such potential in it -- such opportunity… I wanted nothing more than to see it through, and discover everything about it that I could."

"Sounds like you," Garrus says, but she's still going.

"Javik, though… he resisted. I could see it in him. It was like a war for his identity -- for his very self. He stood firm until the end." She looks at Garrus, her voice carefully level. "He died as he was. As he meant to be. He wouldn't have it any other way."

Garrus shakes his head, imagining it, not _wanting_ to imagine it. "Spirits," he whispers. 

"I know. I regret losing him, so much. But… no, this is not his world. I don't think anything is anymore." She glances up at Tali again. "I can only do my best to help the survivors make the most of this one. You included. And her."

Garrus lets his free hand reach up to the bedside, tugging the blankets up more securely around her. Tali makes a restless little twitch, but doesn't wake. "You should try that apple, you know," Liara says, and he laughs once, somewhat brokenly, feeling like he's caught outside of reality somehow.

"I can't just go around eating random food to see if I don't die, you know--"

"It's _fruit,_ Garrus," she says with mild impatience. "It's mostly water. It can't do anything _that_ drastic."

He weighs the apple in his hand. "I don't know. I'll think about it." He considers Tali beside him instead, then sighs. "Liara? Could I…. have a minute with her by myself first?"

"Did you want to talk? She may be asleep a little while yet."

"That's all right. I just… need to think, mostly."

She doesn't hesitate long. "Of course. I'll check in with Dr. Alvan." 

"Thanks," he says, and waits until the thick wooden door swings shut. It makes a satisfying thunk. He takes a moment to admire the solidity of the architecture -- this building feels so strange, archaic almost, but the craftsmanship speaks very well of its creators -- and then returns to the bed. He scoots the chair closer. 

This time, with no one watching, he lets himself touch her.

Turians aren't terrifically tactile by nature, not like humans or asari with their sensitive fingers, but there's still something about it that anchors him: the acknowledgment that she's real, that she's here, that he actually _can_ touch her and not just through fabric. He gently strokes her hair back, lets one finger linger on her cheek, then briefly squeezes her shoulder. "Hey, Tali," he says. "I don't want to wake you, but… I don't know, kind of talking to myself here, I suppose, but if you can hear me… it's good to see you. To _really_ see you. You look amazing."

Her eyes are still closed, but she turns a little his direction. Garrus leans on the edge of the bed, thinking over what to say.

"If what Liara's telling me is true… then you're going to be able to live a good, long life here. Maybe I will, too." He studies the apple still in his other hand, turning it as if it's a whole globe onto itself, the embodiment of this bizarre situation they've found themselves in. "Earth's not exactly where I'd planned on retiring, but I could think of worse places. Any planet that can produce folks like Shepard can't be all bad. And I hear it's got some spectacular scenery. Maybe we can go see it sometime."

He focuses on Tali again, really focuses, until the faint glow of her eyes comes clear beneath her lids and he can even imagine the light tracery of circuits beneath the skin... the very changes that are giving her -- and maybe both of them -- a chance. 

With all the losses of the last few weeks sill pressing down upon him, he knows it's twice as important to hold onto what he still has.

"We dextros still have to stick together, you know," he says lightly, remembering a conversation aboard the Normandy not so long ago. Then he goes more serious. "I mean to say… you and I do. I shouldn't have let you go off working by yourself like that when you had so much to worry about. I won't let us get separated again. For one thing…" He pauses. "I want to hear your voice when you wake up. Without the mask. Without the filters. Just you."

He thinks, just for a moment, he sees her lips move in a smile. Maybe he's imagining it, or maybe she's a little bit less asleep than she's letting on. Tali can be sneaky that way. After a moment of amused consideration, he decides he's just fine with that. 

There's a lot about this, actually, that he's feeling much better about, and a lot that he's willing to give a chance. Even the impossible things.

He ponders Liara's offering again.

"So," he drawls. "In the meantime, I've got this thing to deal with. I _have_ heard the story Liara was hinting about, you know -- and if I'm remembering it right, that's a hell of a lot of baggage for one little piece of fruit. But I guess it suits." He gives Tali an ironic salute with it. "Assuming I come out of this without my throat swollen up and my sinuses shot to hell… see you on the other side?"

He might be imagining this, too, but he thinks he hears her murmur, "I'll be here."

Garrus nods, and takes her hand. And with the hope of her forefront in his mind, Garrus throws his fate to the winds, lifts the apple up and takes a bite.


	4. Chapter 4

_Normandy crash zone, planet unknown: 18:40 local solar time_

It's quiet in the shell of the dying Normandy, at least until Vega shows up.

Joker's been in here for a while, because he suspects he'll have to say goodbye for good soon enough. There's not a whole lot left of her now, after the construction projects and the simple matter of decay; he wants to spend what time he can here, while she's still recognizable. Besides, the conversations going on at their improvised home base are more than he feels up to dealing with. It isn't that he couldn't bring the usual snark if he tried, but the last he checked in, Gabby and EDI were deep into a conversation about synthetic alterations and Issues of a Womanly Nature, and the level of detail involved -- especially once Gabby started setting her engineer's mind to _logistics_ \-- pretty much sent Joker fleeing for the hills.

As it turned out, his escape trajectory took him straight toward the girl he really did love best.

He hasn't ever said as much to EDI, of course, mostly because it would just be _weird._ From her perspective it would probably sound a little like admitting he has a crush on her older sister, and that's really not it, either. But the Normandy -- both Normandies -- had been something special, and something he's pretty damn sure he's never seeing the likes of again, any and all third-time's-the-charm jokes notwithstanding. 

So now he's a pilot without a ship, on a planet he's probably never leaving, and… well, adjusting is kind of hard. Which is why he's here.

He just didn't exactly ask for the company.

"Hey, Joker," he hears, while he's running one hand over what's left of the burned-out pilot's seat. He turns his head. It's Vega, of course, muscling in through a creaky gap in the skeletal walls; most of the surviving metal has been repurposed for their shelters already. "I saw you wander off earlier. Was wondering what you were up to."

"Yeah, well. Just…" He looks up at the beams. "Hanging out with the ghosts, I guess."

"That can't be good."

It probably isn't, but he doesn't feel like arguing the point. "And what were you working on?"

He shrugs. "Roofing. The weather's looking interesting. Wanted to make sure we've got something decent over our heads if it rains." He looks over his shoulder, in the general direction of their camp. "Superbrain over there is kind of outdoing me on hauling around the materials, though. Biotics, man. It's hard to impress the girls with your muscles when you've got someone tossing things around with his mind, you know?"

Joker snorts. " _You_ were the one who got Kaidan on the evac shuttle, you know. You've got no one to blame but yourself."

"Hah. Me and EDI. She talked me into it. And it's not like she couldn't have done it herself -- I mean, considering Mars and all… but anyway." Vega looks oddly thoughtful for a minute. "You think she just wanted an excuse to get me out of there, too?"

Joker's mouth twists. The way EDI had acted there at the last, she'd have saved everyone given the chance -- and he doesn't entirely blame her. He looks around at the ship again. "Makes me wonder if her taste in men got scrambled," he says, deflecting as usual. "I should probably be jealous."

"Hah. I'll stick with the ones that breathe, thanks, no offense." He pauses. "She's not doing that yet, is she? I know a lot changed when we all got zapped, but…."

"No, she hasn't yet joined the ranks of the respiring."

"That's a shame." He waggles his eyebrows. "'Cause it does have its uses…."

"Oh, put a sock in it, Vega."

He chuckles. "Just pulling your leg. But not literally. Wouldn't want to snap something."

At that, Joker gives him a strange little smile. Then he holds out an arm. "You want to try it?"

Slowly, Vega's laughter stops. "What, are you kidding?"

"No. Really. Try to break it."

Vega shakes his head, obviously considering Joker and his notably smaller frame, not to mention the brittle bones beneath that _everyone_ knows about. "Hey, man, I'm not going to _hurt_ you, I just meant…."

Joker stands firm. "James. Seriously. Would I be volunteering to get myself mangled? Especially when we've got limited meds, our doctor's sorely overworked, and we're probably several star systems away from anyone who could get me decent painkillers?" He thrusts his arm out again. "Humor me."

"You," Vega says, "are completely loco," but he steps closer and at least looks at Joker's arm. Then he frowns. "Wait, are you saying that…."

Joker just stares at him. Vega closes one heavy hand around his forearm and grips. The bone stays firm. He slowly increases the pressure, until Joker makes a face and says, "Jeez, man, no wonder you aren't impressing the girls. Put some _muscle_ behind it."

Vega gives up and does, twisting his hand sharply. The pressure hurts like hell for a second before Vega lets go in surprise -- because nothing so much as cracks. Joker holds his hand up and wiggles his fingers in display. He's fine. 

"Fucking _hell_ ," Vega blurts out. "How --"

Joker considers his sore arm for a moment. Vega's fingerprints still stand out in relief, but the blood's beginning to rush back into place. "Dr. Chakwas says it's like I got… reinforced." He tries to shake off the bruise. "She says my new synthetics have been repurposing minerals to make a protective coating around the bones. It's sort of like how Kaidan's ribs got healed so fast. It's also why I'm suddenly hungry all the damn time, but hey…."

"Could be worse," Vega breathes. "Damn."

Joker flexes his hand again. It is, not coincidentally, the hand EDI had been holding while the Normandy came in for its crash landing. She'd been too afraid to be gentle. He'd discovered in that moment just how much had changed -- because EDI's emotions were entirely genuine, and that squeeze around his fingers hadn't broken a single one of them.

He knew he wasn't going to let go of her, literally or metaphorically, after that.

"You ever wonder, though…." Vega shakes his head. "Did this thing screw with us in ways that _aren't_ so good, too? How would we know if it went in and messed with our heads, and we're all going to turn into some sort of crazy robot army?"

Joker leans against what's left of the wall. "Do _you_ feel the urge to go marching on the nearest colony shouting _exterminate?"_

"Me? Nah." He chuckles a little, but it's still wary. "I just… it's hard to know what to think about all this."

Joker might have made a crack about Vega not necessarily being the galaxy's biggest thinker, but the thing is, he's right. Joker's not terribly settled with it either. It's going to take time to figure out all the repercussions, and they've all got enough on their plates trying to survive through what's in front of them. By the time they _can_ stop to regroup, well… it'll be a done deal by then, whatever happens.

Joker scrubs one hand over his face. "The nearest-colony thing is enough of a problem," he says. After a second, he adds a question he hadn't really meant to voice: "You think there really is anyone else out there?"

"Absolutely." Vega sounds so definitive that it surprises him. "A planet so lush it looks like a gigantic tropical resort? We'll find somebody soon enough, and they'll have a hotel, a pool and a fully-stocked bar. And there'll be a gorgeous girl in a bikini there to mix me a mai tai…."

Joker snorts out a laugh. "Don't let Westmoreland hear you say that. I think she's still carrying a torch."

"Maybe she'll be the one in the bikini."

Joker grins back despite himself. Then he says quietly, "I still wonder about the others, too. Back on Earth."

"Me too. But I'm sure they're okay."

"How sure?"

"I just… feel like I _know._ I mean, it's gotta be. We're alive and well when that crash should have killed us. You're walking around with unbreakable bones. If _that's_ possible, everyone else had to have gotten helped out, too. Just for starters -- how much do you want to bet Sparks can finally get out of that suit?"

"That would I love to see."

"I bet you would," Vega jokes, but Joker brushes it off. It's not that he _isn't_ curious, but he meant it more figuratively. Tali deserves to have something good happen for her. They _all_ do. And the more he thinks about it, the more that something deep within him -- a vague sort of hunch, but a hunch just the same -- hints that Vega's not far off the mark: that they _are_ okay, improbability be damned. 

He still takes a while to process that thought, though. It feels strange, trying to be optimistic. He wonders if he's doing it right.

He looks up at the Normandy's bones, lets his hand rest on the supports one more time, and finally turns back to James. "So is dinner on anytime soon? I feel like I could eat an entire damn cow."

"Hah, well. Considering what the guys brought in today, you might actually get the chance. Should be almost ready."

"Then I'll come join you in a minute."

Fortunately, for once, Vega takes the hint. "All right. See you down there." He goes, and for a little while Joker's alone again; it's quiet enough to hear the creaky metal settling in the cooling air. 

"Hey, EDI?" he says experimentally. "Can you still hear me in here?"

It takes a minute, but there's a tiny, tinny response from the nearest undamaged speaker. "Yes, Jeff. I still have limited connectivity."

"So I guess you heard that conversation?"

"Yes."

Joker maneuvers around a beam and finds a place to sit. It's strangely like old times, talking to her like this. If he just closes his eyes and imagines the ship around him is still whole…. "So what do _you_ think about finding other people out here? I mean, your real thoughts. Not just what you've told the crew to keep them going." There's a pause. Joker adds a sardonic, "Come on, EDI, I know you. I know that's what you've been doing."

She responds only reluctantly.

"It's still incomplete," EDI says. "I would like to have had the full range of my scanners and analytics available--"

"EDI. Honey. It's okay." There's still some hesitation, and so he cracks half a smile. _Guess it's my turn to be the encouraging one…._ "You're just figuring out how the rest of us live, is all. Part of being human is figuring out your strengths and limitations and finding ways to play up the best of them. Or overcome the worst of them. Look at me. You think I should have gotten as far as I did, considering? And maybe you don't have an _entire_ network full of supercomputers at your disposal anymore, but you're still pretty damn amazing."

"You don't need to try to flatter me, Jeff." There's the tiniest hint of something like a sigh. "But thank you."

"So _have_ you found anything yet?"

"We've extended the search. And I -- may have recommended to Miss Traynor that she take the southwestern quadrants. She has excellent investigative skills, and I believe radio analysis in the area might be worthwhile."

Joker sits up a little straighter. Something about the way she said that… "EDI, if you put her on that on purpose -- did you _find_ something?"

"I found nothing in particular," she says, sounding suspiciously innocent. "It seemed a better job for our comm specialist. And since I cannot multitask as efficiently as I once did, I believe it is most prudent to find appropriate ways to delegate. Besides, having a concrete, specific task with a high chance of success will assuredly be good for her morale."

Joker knew _exactly_ what EDI meant by that. He beamed up at the ceiling. "EDI, you sly dog."

"I'm certain I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't."

"Limited processing capability," she reminds him, almost cheekily. "Analyzing human behavior accurately requires _vast_ amounts of runtime. And Gabby's got me otherwise occupied redesigning my hair."

Joker, unexpectedly, bursts out laughing. "Wait -- I -- you can _do_ that?"

"Microfilament upgrades," she says. "Come join us and you can see."

"You bet your ass I will," Joker says, realizing to his surprise that he sounds downright _cheerful_ , and gets up. The walk back down the hill is surprisingly easy on his reinforced legs, and he has to admit, the cloud-diffused sunset flaring on the horizon is downright gorgeous. And for the first time since they landed here, coming back to the camp really feels like coming home.

 _Especially_ since he can hear Traynor's excited voice from a good hundred feet away.

 _We really do have a chance,_ he thinks, as he walks up to find the others. And when EDI sees him, she steps right up, puts an arm around him, and gives him a brilliant, and very human, smile.


	5. Chapter 5

_Normandy crash zone, planet unknown: 02:20 local solar time_

And past the end of the day, once even the overexcited crew has _had_ to get some sleep, EDI stands alone at the overlook point, staring out across this new world of theirs.

She's aware in a factual sense that the temperature has dropped by 4.6 degrees since sundown, that human eyes -- before the change, in any case -- couldn't see more than a few meters into the distance at this hour, and that the nearest nocturnal lifeform going about its business is 6.3 meters to her left and, fortunately, not interested in her. Beyond that is an endless stream of data about her surroundings: topographical readings, profiles of the flora, a running tally of observations and calculations about _everything._ She's disregarding most of it. 

She's trying simply to see, as her companions do.

Above all, she wishes to try filtering her perception down to what could be seen with raw human senses. She wants to find out how capable she might be with such limitations. She still has sensory advantages that are difficult to bypass, but she's trying. Experimenting. Trying to settle into her new, altered identity, and prepare for the changes that are likely still to come.

For another thing, the view out here is beautiful.

The clouds have parted again after all, and the stars are brilliant -- no light or environmental pollution to dull them, no towering buildings to block the view, no warships firing. It's just the galaxy spread out in incredible detail. EDI studies the patterns above her, attempting to access any matching data on constellations, but such resources are limited in this age. Space-faring societies largely find constellations irrelevant. A single star could be interpreted a dozen ways from a dozen different planets, and soon all its value in navigation or divination becomes meaningless. But from here -- locked in place as they are -- she can see how shapes in this particular sky might be identified. She tilts her head and runs a swift series of comparisons and visual overlays, then stops the process, blinks away the visual clutter and simply _stares,_ again trying to visualize the scene as humans might. After a time, she wonders if she can invent her own constellations instead. Perhaps that cluster of stars could be said to resemble the underlying mechanics of --

EDI stops herself again. She's aware her current comparison to ship components isn't terribly… poetic. Perhaps she'll need to solicit Jeff's input later.

In the meantime, she considers the image libraries she's just been consulting. _Unnecessary files,_ her data-management utility provides. _Limited storage space availability places this library below the priority threshold--_

EDI thinks about it for a few milliseconds. _Keep the pictures of Earth,_ she decides. _Remove the rest._

As swiftly as that, it's done. The remaining data defragments, and analysis continues. More prioritization. So many things that have to be lost.

So many things she still hasn't told anyone.

She was only partially truthful when speaking with Kaidan earlier today. She _had_ decoded a good deal of the Crucible blast, enough to have heard most of the information relayed to Shepard before the moment of the choice. Most importantly, she knows just how much of Shepard's input went into the synthesis process. If anyone else had been at the helm, the probability for it being much less effective -- and much less kind -- would have been exponentially higher. Shepard had been the sort of person to see the benefits of collaboration and alliances, of joining together as equals. If it had been another person, for instance the Illusive Man….

Well, this world she's standing on would look very, very different. She's run the simulations. The results were unrelentingly grim. 

EDI has considered sharing this information, on this or or the other possibilities presented to Shepard, but has decided against it. She's learned enough of human psychology to be aware that more information is not always helpful. For them to know that other choices might have been made, that their lives could have been altered in completely different ways, and that a single person could ultimately take the credit or the blame… that would be destabilizing at best. Some crew members might not agree with Shepard's decision. Others might simply be distressed at being reminded of their loss. EDI is simply grateful she didn't have to make that choice herself. She feels enough responsibility for the manner of their evacuation off Earth as it is, and so in at least that small way, she understands. 

It's peculiar, this idea of empathy -- just one more bit of the humanity she's inherited. She's not quite used to it yet, but she's oddly glad to be capable of discovering it.

EDI stares up into the sky, thinking harder than she possibly ever has, until she hears footsteps behind her. She waits, not turning around, and tries to guess who it is without using her sensors. The familiar tone to the person's yawn soon decides the matter.

"Hello, Jeff," she says.

He stops beside her, his eyes dream-bruised but a smile turning up his lips. "Couldn't sleep either?" 

"I still do not require a specific cycle for sleep as organics do--"

"I know, EDI." He yawns again. "Just run with it."

She mirrors his smile as best she can, and waits for him to say something more. At last he does. "What are you doing out here, anyway?"

 _Eliminate data blocks XK4478-ZY2206, excepting XV4602, WI3604-4463….._ "Just thinking."

"You've been doing a lot of that lately."

She doesn't answer right away. Instead, she keeps paging through her archives. What she's thinking of ultimately concerns what information must be maintained, not just for the current crew but also future generations here. She had intended to stand as archivist, preserving everything she could -- but some details may simply have to be lost. She doesn't have the room for all the records, not anymore. What's most critical is perhaps also the most simple fact: that someone was looking out for them. Someone honestly tried to do what was right, and to help them in any way possible. And even in death, Shepard managed something incredible. The specific changes that happened, fine-tuning everyone to suit their individual strengths and needs… oh, those changes were _not_ accidents. EDI has no exact empirical proof of that -- she hadn't finished the analysis before she started removing the data blocks -- but nevertheless, she _knows,_ and that's enough.

Her own growing emotional awareness is one of those changes. And if she's ever had a conscience, she'd have to say it was Shepard. That sort of thing lingers. Even if she loses the specific data… she won't forget.

She's still lingering on that idea when Jeff says her name, gently prompting her. EDI catches herself. It's still strange, finding herself reacting to things in near-human time. "It's all right," she explains. "I'm just purging unnecessary data. I know you've said there's a chance we could get more servers online again someday, but I want to stop depending on them." She pauses for a second. "I… want to finish becoming who I am."

"Yeah?"

"Yes." She turns to him. "Besides…I'd rather make the room for new memories."

"What sort of memories?"

She doesn't answer this one either, not out loud. Instead, she looks up. Jeff follows her gaze. Above them, the sky stretches out in infinite complexity. Beside her, she can hear Joker let out a soft sound of appreciation, and then, after a minute, a laugh.

"Yeah," he says, reaching out for her hand. "I think this sort of memory is worth it."

She smiles. "So do I."

And under the massive expanse of the galaxy, still bright and dark and waiting for them all, she reaches out too, closes her eyes, and holds on.


End file.
